Not A Love Letter
by Garmonbozia
Summary: It's not.  It's not even an anti-love letter.  It's not about love and it's not even a letter, so there's no possible way it could ever be a love letter.  I don't even know where you got that idea.   - One shot, in honour of the obvious holiday


'Not A Love Letter – Don't get excited.'

That's the subject bar of the first message in the inbox. Seriously.

'Not a' bloody 'love letter'… No, Seb, it's confirmation that you've bumped off the Georgian Ambassador or it's the termination of your contract. Why the hell would it be a love letter, you mental case. Honestly, I worry about him sometimes. Especially when he makes jokes. He's supposed to be a cold-blooded murderer. That's why I keep him about. Cold-blooded murderers don't make jokes, that's _my_ job. I mean, that's not even funny, so why the hell did he-

Ah, _Christ_, it's that fecking holiday, isn't it? Is that why the card shop down the road's been _pink_ for a month? Right. Fine. Get it. Hilarious, Sebastian, truly.

I keep some idiots about me. Things like this make me notice that.

Jesus, is it February?

Why isn't it, like… round about May, maybe?

Why isn't it about 2020? It feels like it probably should be by now. You know I nearly went to Alton Towers the other day. Seriously. Had the ticket booked and everything before I thought, what the hell am I actually doing? Tell you what, I was nine shots in before I had the heart to forgive myself that one. But there are just whole days where there's nothing to _do_. Or nothing worth doing anyway.

I went to see Avenue Q. That was alright. Put a couple of hours in. And then I put that ambassador thing together and it was still only eleven o'clock, so I watched _Commando_ on some godawful channel in the four-hundreds… That was okay, I suppose. I've seen it before, but I like that bit at the start with Alyssa Milano before she was, y'know, _legal,_ making a sandwich for Schwarzenegger. It's just so random, there's no way in this life or any other she's ever his daughter and…

Time just _crawls_ by. So slowly. And time can do so much. Are you… still…

Oh, I need to turn off shuffle…

What are you doing with your days?

Seriously. You'd think I'd have heard from you by now. I'm not complaining or anything, hide out as long as you want, but… I mean, _c'mon_! You know and I know you're out there. It wouldn't kill you to collapse a job or try and turn one of my usual suspects on me. Something nice and easy like that, something entry level. Get us back into the swing of things. But no, really, it's fine, it's cool. You take whatever time you need.

But aren't you bored without me?

I don't mean that in an arrogant way. I actually mean that in a slightly desperate way. If you're still amused that means there's another me out there. You'd have told me if it wasn't just us, wouldn't you? I'm not going to be sitting here someday, like Gonzo, and it turns out there's some massive big colony of us out there somewhere to play with. Some Greek island full of fun, intelligent sociopaths with a bit of perspective on normal people.

What? Oh, Gonzo? Yeah, I watched _Muppets In Space_ too…

Piss off. I was hungover and I couldn't move and the remote was over there somewhere.

It's just so hard to get _motivated_ when there's nobody to properly appreciate it. Admit it, now, you were impressed. You were totally impressed. I did some really, really impressive stuff, and the world sat around going, 'Ooh, he's so mean and nasty and evil, he should be shot behind the chemical sheds' and none of them had the sense to be _impressed_, except you.

'Chemical sheds'? _V For Vendetta_. That was the night before the Muppets, actually. I was drunk rather than hungover, but the outcome is the same; couldn't move, remote over there.

_That's not the point_. Stop taking the mick when you're not even here, y'lanky dark eejit…

The point is… I had a point, but you've annoyed me now. I don't even care anymore, if I'm honest. No, I really don't. It's ridiculous, all this hanging about and _you_ and thinking about _you_ and not going to Alton Towers because what if _you_ came back and being disgusted with myself because I can't get up and do anything because of _you_. I've had enough of it.

I'm getting a new nemesis, by the way.

I'm going to be someone else's villain.

Yeah, I meant to tell you this ages ago, but I didn't know how to break it to you. There's somebody else. He's secretly a big fan of my work but outwardly rages at me. And he's way more morally ambiguous than you ever were, and quirkier too. He only eats sweets and he never leaves his flat and he let a guy _die_ on _TV_ to catch his last criminal. He's just so much cooler than you. And he doesn't have some ginger big-eared spaniel following him about everywhere _humanizing_ him and making him no fun anymore.

Yeah. I'm moving on. Just thought I'd let you know.

Not that that should stop you coming back, though. You should obviously still come back. That's no problem. And y'know, if you _do_ come back? And you're having trouble getting a proper villain in your life again? I can _probably_ come back and cover for a while. No promises, mind.

But if you _need_ me, I'll be here.

I've stopped posting to the forums, you know. What am I saying, of _course_ you know. I _know_ you know. You still read it. Of course you do. You're just taking this whole 'being dead' thing a bit seriously, that's all, so you're not replying. Which is fine, I admire your commitment. Hell, I broke into kids TV for you; if anybody understands commitment, it's me.

Not that I'm holding that against you. No guilt or anything. But I did.

But if you do still read it, it's not that I've given up on you or anything, it's just I know you'll be in touch when you're ready. That's okay.

I still use our secret names, so you don't have to worry about anybody else finding it. I still log in as robingibb and I only ever look for replies from Mr_Travolta. I'm not interested in anything anybody else has to say.

Only you. Only you can make this world seem right… make the darkness bright.

Only you, _you alone_, can _thrill_ me like you do, and fill my

_Jesus_, Jim, turn the bloody shuffle off. It's doing you no favours…

Okay, this once, this _once_, because it's a holiday and I have naff all else on, I'll log in, okay? Just for you.

And all I'm going to do is leave this little post for Mr_Travolta that says, 'Not a Love Letter'.

And all you're going to do is reply with the words, 'I should hope not'.

And that'll be it.

That's all.

Okay?

Please?


End file.
